


Death Before Dishonor

by PeacewithanS



Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:30:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeacewithanS/pseuds/PeacewithanS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Corvo Attano, recently disgraced by an accident that could have killed Jessamine Kaldwin, is approached by a infamous underground dance coach simply named "The Outsider." Can Corvo redeem himself with some new footwork, or will he stumble and fall?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Track one - Hang on little tomato/Pink martini

Blinding lights filtered in past warped shades, sending searing pain through the back of Corvo’s skull.

He groaned and turned over, hand bracing against the cold floorboards. He felt sick and sluggish, his body aching and throbbing. The nausea weighed him down horribly- those cheap vodka shots he took to fall asleep were threatening to greet him once again as he slowly worked himself up into a standing position.

It was no different from any other morning, really.

Bracing himself, he rose slowly and ignored his protesting muscles with a long stretching session. He glanced on the clock somewhat anxiously, not that had anywhere he needed to be. No one wanted a man who’d been accused of trying to sabotage another dancer’s chances on going to regionals— even if the woman was his closest friend. It was futile to try and stop a rumor like that from spreading, not in the theater, not on stage. No, not where scandal and seething whispers plagued every step the dancers made. It didn’t matter that Jessamine didn't blame him, or that she’d merely broken a leg jumping out of the way of a falling light. None of that mattered when someone claimed to have found fibers from corvo’s own show costume on the twisted edges of the smashed light. It didn't matter if he had any sort of alibi-- his reptuation was as stained as if jessamine  _had_ died that day.

All that mattered was that after that day, he found himself doing many more solos, and very often to a bare stage and seats. He left the theater troupe, or perhaps they asked him to- the details were a little fuzzy after a few months. He tried to find other work, but everywhere he went he was met with rejection or pale faces. His reputation had grown exponentially for the worse it seemed. he couldn’t show his face in any theater without meeting a horrified stare or tight lipped shake of the head before a quick dismissal. Whispers clung to him like a thick coat, hanging on his back like a shadow, he didn't need to say a thing. One look at his face and it was evident that they would not be calling him to fill that much needed position in their performance.

So he took to other work. Every morning he woke up and checked the local boards for any small job that could help him pay for his meager meals or his rent- if he really pinched pennies and managed steady work, he could send a little something as a gift to emily. He always loved seeing her when he danced. she’d run up to see him and he would slow down the moves he'd learned over the years so she could dance alongside him- or, he would whirl her around and listen to her excited shrieks and laugh heartily, Jessamine standing by with a smile on her face. Probably checking her email as he occupied her daughter for the time being.

These days, He distanced himself from Jessamine and Emily in order to protect them. Jessamine shouldn't be put out of work simply because he was selfish and wanted to see little Emily once again. They exchanged letters anyhow, It was nice to see her handwriting when he began to feel nostalgic.

Corvo smiled as he finished changing and grabbed the mail from his box. jessamine sent him letters telling him of her latest projects and general aspects of her life before prying into his and nagging him to eat well-- _healthy_ , corvo, you have to eat  _healthy_. not just a lot where you can afford it. there's a difference.--and emily sent him drawings by the handful. She must have been burning through the paper and crayons, because one of the drawings was on the back of a misprinted document. Perhaps he would send her a new pack when he got to the store. He hung every single one up on his fridge.

Even if there was barely anything in there, it was always full of her art. He’d be happy to go to it and see all her creativity. She was going to be just as brilliant as her mother, no doubt.

Corvo took his time pouring over the letter and newest picture— a grand piano with a floppy haired man and giant beard dramatically throwing his hands up and down on it. Appropriately titled “sokloaf.” in emily's large handed writing. He couldn’t bite back the laughter knowing she meant the very elitist “Anton Sokolov.”, a rather prestigious artist and muscian who had been rising to the top since he was young- fifteen, maybe? Eitherway, he slipped the papers in his bag and made his way down the apartment stairs.

Slipping his hood up and placing a half mask on. He got enough shit from his landlord over how many times he was late with the rent; He hardly needed the stares and pedestrians purposely j-walking so as to avoid sharing concrete with an apparent “murderer.”

He wasn’t sure where he was going to go, but it couldn’t hurt to try the billboard again. There must have been some dying business that would be desperate enough to hire him. If not- he could always head into grab the scrap work from the general--well, he wasn’t a general, really. He’d fought in a couple wars but Corvo was almost positive he just fought in a couple wars and went out on his boat every weekend. He could use a hobby like that—that is, if he could afford hobbies. Maybe when the next scandal popped up he could manage some steady work.

Heading to the billboard, he squinted from the crosswalk to see a slight figure in a hood stapling a poster down smack in the middle of the board. He had a sling backpack which was probably stuffed with a hundred more posters exactly like it. After he slipped away the stapler, he took out a stencil and sprayed something upon it. Corvo continued to stare, trying to see exactly what it is he was marking on the black poster, but he was jarred out of his trance when a horn honked. He waved slightly as he ran across to the other sidewalk.

 _thanks for not running me over today. that’s real decent of you._ he always thought when he waved to drivers impatiently inching closer to the line. He reached the board finally, but there was no sign of the man. The area stank of compressed air and copper from the spray can. After a brief look around-- still unconvinced anyone could disapear that quickly without a get away car--he looked at what the man placed there with burning curiosity. A large black poster with only one image freshly painted in white- it almost seemed to shine against the matte paper.

There were tabs fringed at the bottom and corvo, suddenly compelled, tore one off.

_Come find me_

That was it. No address, no name, not even a general direction. Corvo groaned. these damn kids were always pulling shit. It was probably a little street gang or something. He was tempted to throw it away- but then he noticed this poster only had eight tabs— seven, thanks to him. With a shrug, he slipped it in his pocket and moved on shaking his head as he headed straight for the bar to beg Havelock for some wages.


	2. Track 2 - Ivory Tower/Tripod

Have a good night, Corvo.” Corvo flashed a rare and genuine smile back at the smoking man with salt and pepper hair. Weathered looks and a raspy voice from years of serving overseas did nothing to dull his personality in the slightest.

“You too, Samuel.” he liked Samuel, it was hard to think anyone didn’t- he was a simple delivery man who worked under havelock but always had a story to tell and the patience of a saint. that must have come with age, Corvo thought to himself when he watched samuel interact with the pub crew, always at ease despite his obvious lack of sleep pulling countless night shifts. Corvo liked to think Samuel passed along that little twinkle in his eye when he would stop and say “have I ever told you about the time when…?” before rambling on about his days aboard a naval ship. The ex-dancer always had a minute to spare if samuel had something to say.

Adjusting his thick coat against the battering winds, Corvo began his walk back to his apartment for another sleepless night, forsaking the lights of the hound pits pub for the cold and winding sidewalks of dunwall. shoving his hands into his coat, corvo halted suddenly when he felt something other than his keys brush his fingers. he moved into the next streetlight to examine it.

“You again.” He huffed, looking at the slightly worn tab he’d forgotten to throw out. “Come find me, yeah, right.” Didn’t kids these days have anything better to do than this? At least it was better than the dick someone drew on the side of his building he was used to seeing- this was at least creative. But before he could manage to toss it out, a gust of wind ripped through, sending the paper fluttering about and landing on the edge of the street light’s beam. He would have left it, good riddance, but with corvo’s luck, some cop was going to pass by and fine him for littering. It was a rather quiet neighborhood, and with his reputation, they were itching to put him in the cruiser for one reason or another. He begrudgingly walked over to scoop up the slip when another pitch of wind flung it from his reach. It seemed like the entire universe was conspiring against him somehow.

“Come here, I’m trying to help the environment you little shit.” he hissed, nearly jogging after it now. god knows why we was getting so worked up over a piece of paper he didn’t even want, in hindsight, he might have simply been looking for a petty purpose from it. He wanted to feel like he at least did something, even if it was as childish and being able to throw away a stupid poster tab.

At last, he snagged victory as the paper got caught against the chain link fence in an alleyway. Corvo slammed his hand against the metal and pulled the tab away, smiling to himself.

“My dear Corvo.” a voice that cut through the the blaring silence of the night, impassive yet powerful, made Corvo snap his attention forward through the chain links. the smile died from his lips as he realized he’d been standing there all along. “what a sad hand fate has dealt you.” Corvo wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or sympathetic, but he was too dumbstruck to begin asking questions. “ousted from the spotlight for sake of the dear Empress.” his blood went cold, that was the name of Jessamine’s character in the upcoming play… the cursed play that nearly killed her. “But we know what really happened, don’t we?” he’d taken to pacing up and down the length of the fence as he spoke, eyeing Corvo like a hungry tiger would eye it’s next meal, gesturing as he recounted the events with an exceptionally theatrical air. “and you don’t want to end your career to the sound of those idiots applauding some hack as your reputation hits rock bottom, do you?” his voice was strangely close, despite the fact that he only stood behind a thin fence. Eyes he could not see were boring into him, but he couldn't look away, despite the voice in the back of his mind shrieking for him to get the hell away from this man.

“lets see if we can do better.” there was an undeniable draw with the final word, as Corvo took a step towards the fence- grasping the cold metal as if it was the only thing holding him in place.

The man with the hypnotizing voice mimicked his proximity— from here he could at least make out some minor details of his form. “And to make things interesting…” he laughed, flicking his wrist and drawing a card out of thin air. “my mark.” he flipped the card between his fingers so as to show the stark white symbol printed squarely in the middle.

Somehow, it fit through the gaps of metal, though the man held it out only by the edge—as though he couldn’t allow himself to risk brushing fingers with the disgraced dancer. “consider it…” the man hesitated, as though mulling over his choice of words. “a gift.”

He gingerly took the card, examining it carefully. it had the same matte paper and shining paint—exactly the same as the poster that lead him here. Again, Corvo found himself staring at it for much longer than he should have—when he looked up, the man had vanished and despite the tense air Corvo found that he was getting really sick of that trick.

Corvo delicately slipped the card into his front pocket and made his way back home at last- though if he would able to sleep tonight was an entirely different question.


	3. track 3 - Stereo/IAMDYNAMITE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daud meets the twins.

“Lighter steps, I shouldn’t even be able to hear you.” Thomas scolded, watching the rest of the whalers rehearse the movements. they were broken into smaller groups, each going over the same score so to perfectly nit-pick their steps and rhythm. “That’s too hard- come on, brace your step. Don’t land flat, Bend your knee. toes, sole, heel, repeat. It should be one smooth motion.” the whalers made no noise of complaint, they simply continued on, as though there was nothing else in the room, the only thing that changed was their noise level, as instructed. “Better, but I shouldn’t even hear your breathing. come on, focus- I want absolute silence. Good… Good, but we can do better. we can always do better. make sure to work on your weight change- do not allow yourself to come down hard, or else.” they waited in their resting positions, eyes facing forward. “Dismissed.”

Like a wave they broke apart. Sighing, smiling, and chattering quietly as they hurried off for the next group to come on. Their attitudes completely changed once they were off pointe, returning to their lackadaisical selves as they panted loudly and gulped down water like it was the last oasis. their gluttonous gulps would distend their bellies as they rested but it was a problem that could wait until the next round of training.  
The music was reset and ready to be played when the off stage whalers suddenly rose up to attention. Thomas turned and greeted their master with a reserved smile, arms at his side. Nothing to hide. “Good morning, sir.” Daud nodded shortly, looking over the whalers and smoking one of his cigarettes. “We were rehearsing the steps from when we left off yesterday…and...” Thomas, ever the efficient and economical was hardly left wordless, but he seemed utterly tightlipped at something, now. “I wasn’t aware we were entertaining today, sir.” He leaned into whisper but Daud followed his gaze to find The Outsider gliding along his ranks of whalers, each looking a little more nervous as he passed by. Great. Just what he needed.

“We’re not.” he hissed, making a beeline for the offending party. “What the hell do you want.” The Outsider stopped, smiling to himself as though Daud had done nothing more than simply tell him an amusing joke.

“And a good morning to you as well.” He chuckled, stepping past him. Daud grabbed his arm and spun him back around, forcing him to stand and face him. The Outsider seemed to pay this no mind- his movements as flowing and graceful as though he’d made the decision to turn around himself.

“What are you doing here- we agreed you were not to--”Daud.” The man released his arm with an angry flick of the wrist. Tension was already in the air.  
“Here’s a rebuttal, come out with me. I have something you might like to see.” The Outsider raised his brow, and Daud could feel the curious gazes of the whalers all landing on him at once. it was like pinpricks upon his skin. He always kept his personal affairs and his business in two separate spheres and The leviathan before him enjoyed pressing either together until they were one in the same, twisting it into an entirely new shape that suited his style instead.

he hated that. He really did.

“I’m not interested.” He snarled, looking over at The Outsider who continued to avoid his gaze like a spoiled, spiteful child.  
“No of course you’re not. but I am and that’s all that matters.” He inspected the collars of the stock still men. Daud audibly scoffed at this, he’d put up more of a fight if he were a few years younger-- back when he thought it would win him anything with him: this horrible nightmare in the form of a dancer. Long ago, he’d gone his separate ways from The Outsider, but it hadn’t stopped the bastard from working his influence into his life, bleeding into his vision and subtly guiding his hand no matter how miniscule the action or suggestion until he was forced to question how quickly and easily this parasite had gotten under his skin and on his nerves. He was a constant plague upon his mind and he couldn’t seem to cure himself of his being.

The Outsider--ever the busy body when it came to his own curiosity--was already prying at his men’s stone faced expressions. “Such loyalty. do they do tricks too?” He took one by the chin, turning his head from side to side. None of them reacted. Not until they were told to. Daud was greatly tempted to allow the man to strike if he thought it would make a difference. He knew all too well the personal consequences of trying to take a swing at The Outsider. He looked back at the man marching across the aisle of his personal pupils.

“They would bite the hand that abuses them.” Daud remarked with a sharp hiss upon his tongue. The Outsider cackled and dropped his hand, teeth bared with every shake of his shoulders.  
“are we talking of your men, or of you, my friend?” Daud remained silent, and instead crossed his arms and frowned. “Regardless.” The Outsider snapped his fingers in the air. “I need you to come with me.” he came shoulder to shoulder with Daud, smirking mischievously. “Bring your men, if you please. the outcome will be the same.” With a clack of boots, and the sound of the door clanking shut, The Outsider was gone and a card was slipped in Daud’s pocket without his knowledge. On it held the address in a well known, long handed cursive script.

“Master Daud?” Thomas was the one to bring him back from the trance, as per usual. Daud could feel an unnerved chill ripple over his skin and down his back, but he steeled himself regardless.

“Thomas, you and Lurk will continue the practice until I return. Keep everyone on task, god knows what that cretin wants from me now.”

“Yes, Sir.” the other men remained ramrod straight, their expressions blank as they awaited new orders. Lurk began her stretches. She was the one who did the more complex choreography for the whalers. It would have been harder to believe if she hadn’t received personal recognition for her natural talent and footwork. “May you have a safe trip and return to us swiftly.” Daud nodded and grabbed his coat again, grumbling to himself about a cursed lottery and a water-swollen corpse in a shitty suit.

The door clicked closed and Thomas turned to see the men grinning, now broken from their lines, hunched and awaiting Thomas’ new orders. He groaned.  
“You’re not getting out of anything, everyone who was on stage, back in your places, those on deck are with Lurk, the rest of you… just... don’t leave the studio.” Thomas looked down at his clipboard, scribbling hastily as whalers bustled about and chattered about what had just occurred.

\---

“I typically prefer dinner before a show.” Daud remarked as he sat down beside The Outsider in the aisles of the run down theater. His boots were sticking to the floor, almost to solidify that there was no quiet escape from his personal hell alongside the pale skinned dancer.

“Daud, I’m afraid you’re of the age that If I fed you before, you’d sleep through the entertainment.” he quipped. “Not to mention it’s hard to stay light on your feet if you keep packing on the pounds like that.” He let his eyes flicker over him just before the lights began to dim. “I asked to have these two perform first- I think you’ll find they’re quite amusing.”  
Daud turned his attention to the stage and ignored the fat comment, the spotlights slowly focusing on either side, and two young men stepped out. Identical in height and face.

“twins.” he mumbled, looking toward The Outsider for some sort of reaction to this obvious revelation. “Dancing... twins.”  
“Well I’d hope so. If this turns out to be nothing more than smoke and mirrors, I’ll be rather disappointed.” The Outsider entwined his fingers over his lap. Daud said nothing more as they began their walk to the center of the stage. The music began with rather static notes but their moves were as fluid as poured water. In accordance with the twin gimmick, they had perfected their ability to mirror one another across the stage. gliding on their feet as though it was ice, their controlled choreography made Daud lean in, resting his elbows on his thighs as he watched their performance. The Outsider smirked, seeing this out of the corner of his eye.

They seemed to have the illusion of a mannequin being held by strings, as the hip to knee was stiff, but the rest of the leg dangled in their odd dance. the music skipped and bumped- making very sharp stops which they used as rhythm. As it began to speed up, so did they-- they swam through the routine as if their lives were dependant on hitting the exact cues.

“They’re good.” he heard himself say before a laugh cut him off.  
“I don’t bother with mediocrity, my friend.”  
“We’re not friends.”  
“We must be, otherwise you wouldn’t have come.”

their stop motion imitation was smooth and flawless, as though each limb was being pulled and pushed by an unseen force. The only thing more impressive than their abilities was the way they stayed in perfect sync to one another. They would need limited effort to become great within Daud’s ranks-- so long as their temperament was as polished as their routine.

“You’ll meet with them afterwards, but as for how you handle them…” he chuckled again as the lights darkened once more. “I await with baited breath.”  
the crowd stood and clapped. though it wasn’t incredibly crowded, it was enough to make a roar of applause-- and The Outsider had slipped away without another word. Daud stood and made his way to the backstage quickly as the twins made their exit.

\---

“we don’t want any.” a rather conniving voice spoke through the chained crack in the door at Daud. he turned away, though the door remained open. Daud pre-emptively slipped his foot in to ensure he couldn’t close it before he was finished talking. “what do you mean I messed it up--”who’re you. what do you want.” the brother slipped his face in to peer through the opening. for brothers, they kept rather close contact at all times. even their room was rather cramped. How they had restrained from murdering one another by now was rather remarkable.

“My name is Daud, and I have a proposal for you.” the two exchanged a glance and narrowed their eyes at the dancer. “I’d like to come in and discuss it face to face, rather than through the keyhole.” he removed his foot slowly, and they began to close the door. the sound of a latch being removed echoed loudly before the barrier swung open and the twins gestured for him to come inside.

“welcome to our humble paradise.” the two seemed rather proud of themselves and their hole in the wall. in the same way a rat is proud of it’s breeding prowess, supposedly. Too bad a rat king never got a crown, just a huge pain in the ass and a lot of cramped space.

Daud cringed. “And here I thought the flooded district was bad.” he grumbled, looking about. the twins glared with equal annoyance, walking about as they glared daggers at him.

“Hey, If you don’t like it you can leave.” one of them stated very frankly, the other opening the door again and gestured with a sweeping arm into the hall. Daud stayed still, both of them simply waiting on him.

“Like I said.” he eyed them both. “I have a proposal for you.” The twin who stood by the door quietly closed it, and they seemed to rotate their positions, watching him like circling hyenas. He lit a cigarette to bide his time and still they watched. “I don’t care if you accept or not- but hear me out.” the smoke wafted from his lips as easily as his lies. He was a professional, after all. He worked with his words as much as he did the rest of his body. If he could talk someone into doing exactly what he wanted with no blood spilled then it was all the better for him. He reserved the dirty work to his paid jobs. This was his own personal interest. “I have a team of dancers- talented and in situations much like your own.” they certainly bristled at the assumption of their ‘situation’. “I can provide shelter, food, and a place to sleep for both of you if you’re willing to work for it.” 

He paused, watching their expressions as he took long drags of the dwindling tobacco. They kept their eyes lingering on him and only parted glances to look at one another.   
“Can we…” one of them gestured over their shoulder and he nodded, hissing smoke like the devil himself. “Thanks.” They quickly turned and marched the small steps away from him to discuss the offer. Daud was nearly at the filter now. At times he just tore them off if he didn’t roll it himself but that was a often a luxury he couldn’t afford. They spoke in hushed whispers, small murmurers and sideways glances. He had his moment to evaluate them and now he’d be laid under the same scrutiny.

“Can we get it in writing?”  
“That’s what we call a contract- I have a man who will draw one up for both of you.” they stared him down. Things like this were delicate. He couldn’t overshare or else they could take advantage of him. They were cut-throats just like him, he just had to be the better one.  
“You have to take both of us.”  
“That’s the idea.”  
“No take backs.”  
“...Excuse me?”  
“No take backs, no going back on our deal.”  
“If I do, you have my permission to sue me--” he stopped them before they got too excited. “If you can afford a better lawyer than I do.” They whispered to one another again, and nodded.  
“Deal.” the decider stepped forward and extended his hand before the other grabbed it and pulled it away, pointing his finger at daud.  
“That is- until we get it in writing.” The responsible one urged. Daud smiled and snuffed his cigarette on the floorboards.  
“One of my men will collect you for your initiation, I’ll leave my card with you but if you call me with anything except where to find you, I’ll use every minute you waste my time by cutting away another benefit from your contract.” They nodded quickly, snatching the card from his hand. Daud turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him. He half expected the place to come crashing down behind him. The fact that it didn’t gave him a hint of hope- he’d have to deal with that later but until he got back home… He’d enjoy it.


	4. Track 4 - Too Original/Major Lazer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempers run high, feet fly alongside sparks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was comfortable, you know. Sleeping in that dumpster. Too bad I have relentless friends to drag me out of retirement, in order to post more chapters.
> 
> Sorry for the wait on this one.

“You’re an idiot, you don’t drink shitty beer before the expensive stuff-”Expensive doesn’t mean good!” the blonde man groaned loudly, rolling his eyes so harshly they could have rolled back into his head and out his ears.

“Your taste buds will go numb, you won’t taste anything and you decide to have a ten dollar beer. you’re a fuckin idiot.” he drawled in a thick accent. “that’s like saying, i’d rather drink some piss before a glass of water- so i can really relish the taste--”

“No, listen--“mm, that’s a damn fine swill i’m choking back, please sir, may I have another--”

Corvo chuckled, listening to the off duty guards sit and drink in the pub. If there was one thing to be said about the hound pits, it was that there was no end to the stories he overheard while busing tables. In fact, he was wiping down a booth not far from the men, behind the blonde morlish man and feverishly trying to finish his shift in the cold afternoon before it got too late.  
He only slowed to avoid being forced out into the cold too early with no where else to go.

“If you drink the shit first--“So you admit, it’s shit.”--If you drink it before the good stuff, then you can really enjoy the drink, instead of saying, shit, wish i had more of that good stuff rather than this piss.”

“Or I’d say, boy, glad i don’t drink fookin piss straight outta the-”  
Corvo barked a cough, attempting to hide his laughter. This patron was one of those who knew quite well, he always chatted with Corvo as if he was the greatest man he’d ever met. Probably because he would always listen to his complaints. It was nice that someone could be so content with such a little thing, Corvo should have to ask him how he managed to maintain his simple pleasures in a city determined to bring people down.

“Oi, attah-no, settle a bet.” A wave of the hand and a big smile. He looked over, stopping his mindless circles as the man smiled at him- always in that tipsy sort of friendliness, even when sober. “Which do you drink first, expensive drinks, or cheap drinks--“-and be honest, don’t just ride us for a tip.”

“Shut the fuck up and show some respect.” the blonde man snarled very harshly and the other pulled back all of a sudden at his intensity. “You give someone a choice, you don’t say no’ting until he says something.” The brunette sulked into his pint. “I’m so sorry, mr. at’ahno. What’s your take on it?” Corvo straightened up, thinking on the matter.

“Well, I’ve never had anything too expensive, besides champagne at a cast party.”

“You’re joking. You should have a drink with us, next time we celebrate.”

“So, next sunday, then?” Corvo chuckled to himself, already biting his tongue and hiding his smile at the joke. The morlish man looked shocked before his smile spread across his face and he looked as though Corvo had gifted him the entire bar, wrapped up in a bow. “Ah...at’ahno you’re a good man.” The morlish man often spoke with an accent but he found times, small moments really, when he would forcibly disguise his voice. Hide his accent to better acclimate himself to Dunwall. That was what always made Corvo a bit sadder to hear from the proud morlish man- his pride and his spark of life was always diminished by the cold hard uniform he bore every day, coming into the pub. He spent a meager amount on piss poor alcohol, but every day he would smile at Corvo and leave a decent tip and a story for him to share with Emily. A good man, a good friend. He wondered how he got into his line of work with such a strong moral compass.  
What was worse was he couldn’t have been much younger than he was, yet he bore the hardships of an entire generation on his back.  
“Anyway, we gotta get going.” the man smiled, throwing down a few dollars and setting it under a salt shaker before standing tall and pulling on his jacket and hat. It was clearly patched a number of times and judging by the sweater he wore underneath, a little more than threadbare. “Take care of yourself, Corvo.” With a pat on the arm and a smile like he had the moon on a string, Corvo could at least take comfort in that.

“Have a good one, Marley.” he waved, clearing the booth and pouring their drinks into one glass before tucking them into the tub. With a grunt, Corvo lifted the great gray burdon and made his way to the kitchen where he dodged some of the other minimum wage slaves like himself. Cecilia, Callista, Wallace… just to name a few of his so called co-workers.

“Oh, excuse me, Corvo.”  
he hefted the tub above his head as he continued to weave through the to the sink, rolling up his sleeves as lydia slipped through the swinging doors.

“I need someone to help cover the bar, it’s almost five and our tap needs to be replaced, Cecilia didn’t I tell you to check it this afternoon? before the rush?” Corvo ferociously scrubbed the glasses, shaking them with dishwater and a hand over the top like he was making a soap suds martini. he laughed.   
_martini, dirty, if you please._

_Oh, forgive me sir, we only have clean today, all out of olives._

“Corvo, can you help Cecillia with the tap? be sure to grab a cO2 tank, they may be low too.”  
He nodded, abandoning the dishes to Callista who was already washing and drying at twice his speed.  
No rest for the wicked, then.

He tried not to think about the irony of how quickly she managed to replace him at the sink. Far too depressing when he was close to finishing the work day. He smiled at Cecillia who meekly smiled back at him as he lead the way to the basement.

\---

Sweat drips from his brow as the lanky man presses his palms up against a cold mirror, panting as his muscles tremble and his body heaves. He refuses to give into the weight of his body- and instead lifts himself away from the mirror to grab a small rag. It’s already soaked with sweat but at least it cools him for the time being. At least it can keep sweat out of his eyes, that’s all that matters.  
The sinking feeling of his stomach overshadowed the heat of his skin, the chill of the cracked window settled on him like an old cloak, frigid fingers caressing him and brushing away heat for a shiver or two. There was bile in his throat- probably from the meal he had earlier.   
He swallowed it down and groaned, forcing himself to take control and beat back his body’s reaction to the intensive training.

He sipped water to calm his stomach, force down anything trying to work its way up.

Once his body calmed he wiped the sweat of his brow on his bicep, slowly setting a leg out and lowering down on a crouched leg, watching himself in the mirror like a stranger. He continued to sip and stretch, sip and stretch. He couldn’t stop completely or he might fall apart like he desperately wanted to. He stared at himself as he moved into a more stretches, bending back as far as he could and looking at the room with a exasperated sigh, These motions meant nothing more to him than an old, familiar discomfort. He closed his eyes and he could feel his breath slipping out slowly past his lips. Memories of being surrounded filled his mind. He was adored by a group of attendants, they powdered his hands, polished his nails. rings placed upon his fingers. He stood still and pliable to their hands. Like a doll, he allowed his lips to be painted along with his eyes and his clothes double checked. Everything must be perfect. It was their last chance. He was their last mad hope. A heartbeat could be heard somewhere. Was it his? What were they doing? What was to become of him after this moment? The knife emerged with it’s burning, glistening blade. He opened his mouth to speak and--

_Brr-rrr! Brr-rrr! Brr-rrr!_

He dropped to his knees and slowly brought himself up to grab at his bag. The vibrations were much bolder now. He opened his phone and checked the messages.

His email was overflowing with messages from a single man with exceptions from others wishing to contact the mysterious man. The occasional threatening letter lodged here and there-- any means of getting his attention.  
A text from an unknown number came in, and he was too slow to recognize the number before opening it, curiously. He recoiled and dropped the phone.  
“Ugh!” he groaned. He gingerly picked up the offensive piece, carefully looking again.

 

Anton and his… rather vile demonstrations of art.

If it could be called that.

If anything that involved could be considered “Art” in the loosest definition.

“If I recall, I said interesting, not… grotesque, did I not, sokolov?”  
He blocked the new number and shuddered. The bile rose back up and he stood. Perhaps a quick walk to the coffee shop, would be necessary. He needed something to line his stomach before he even began to consider looking at any more messages. He slipped on his coat and tied a scarf around his neck. Perhaps the barista he liked would still be on shift. It was worth a shot of espresso for his time at least.

\---

“Thank you so much, Corvo. You have no idea how much this means to me…” Cecilia trailed off. she was a sweet girl, but a little on the shy side. it wasn’t suitable for her to really be running behind the bar, but she certainly did clean efficiently which is half the reason they kept her around, he supposed. same reason as him, essentially. all work no talk. their favorite sort of worker. He grunted as he lifted the keg onto the trolley, carefully tilting it back and moving to the nearly antique elevator. Cecilia followed him in with the other loaded trolley, and moved the lever to the next floor. The elevator groaned and jerked into movement, clunking as it reached the main floor and Corvo began moving the keg out and towards the bar.

Wordlessly, he grabbed the old keg and handed it to Cecilia, who rushed back down to the cellar and replace the old canister. Corvo shifted the new keg in, turning it so the label prominently displayed “ED ROSEBURROW - REFINED ‘WHALE ALE’”

Corvo never had a taste for it, but he could always tell from the stink of the alcohol, the proof had to be absolutely unreasonable. This stuff would be more appropriate to blow up the bar than sit in someone’s gullet. but perhaps that was simply his own opinion.  
He slipped the tap into the keg opening, and took a small sample to make sure it was running properly. The tap sputtered a bit before finally gurgling out into a pint mug with a familiar musky color. He filled it to a point and raised it to the light, examining the contents to make sure nothing had been tainted, sitting down there in that cellar. They had a share of break ins, people who were sick or on the run from something, just wanting some place to hide out for a little while. They asked Corvo- on rare occasions- to flush out trespassers and sobbing drunkards. He recalled the first time Havelock told him to go down there.

_“We’d send the others but… they don’t handle it well, you see.” Havelock sighed, smoking like one of the few furnaces inside. Corvo looked at the… oddly ominous trapdoor Havelock hid under a rug. He asked about it once- evidently the pub had been around so long, it was one of those that’d been used to shanghai drunken sailors through the sewers and onto ships to bulk up vessels for whaling or mercenary work or whatever else. “We have blanks for you to use, they work a little like a BB gun- won’t hurt them much, but it’ll scare them, if you want to go that route.” Corvo took the odd weapon and nodded. “And here are the keys. Come back up once and hand them in once you’re done clearing it out.” Corvo slipped the gun into his belt before slipping down the trapdoor, wondering how desperate for coin he really was._

“Finish pouring that, it’s only half full.” Corvo jumped, not realizing someone had slipped onto the stool in front of him. He obeyed, despite his surprise and continued filling the glass, letting the foam spill out the side and setting it down on a coaster that proudly displayed the pub mascot “Tempest” the champ fighting underdog.

“Hello Samuel.” he sighed, the whole day already fraying his nerves. The coaster even pressed on his mind. it was a sickening idea, one that Corvo hoped was simply a play on the title but the way Havelock paraded around and reminded everyone of his connection to the navy--it hardly seemed a stretch at what activities used to go on at this bar. “Sorry it’s not cold.”

“It’s cold enough outside. I don’t mind a warm beer now and again.” he set down the money and grabbed the pint, sipping it slowly. Corvo took the money and slipped to the register, watching the clock as he did. His shift was nearly through now- he could crawl into his apartment and curl up for a short nap before he made a small dinner for one. Samuel lifted away from his glass with a satisfied smack of his lips and turned his attention to Corvo, who was lost in thought again.

“Something on your mind?”

“Hm? no, no… well.” he debated if he should talk about the odd encounter and his …midnight drafting back into the dancing world. In the end, he decided against it. “I’m thinking about what I’m going to do, when I have Emily this weekend.”

“Her mother allowing her to visit?”

“She allows it- she never had a problem with me. it’s just... we’ve taken to lying low since the incident. Gossip lasts longer than all the the relics in Dunwall.” Samuel nodded. “We agreed, to preserve Emily’s future in dancing that she wouldn’t be publicly seen with me until it blew over a bit.”

“That must have weighed on you. I know I couldn’t be separated that much from a little one.” Corvo took a deep breath and looked out into the distance- nearly dissociating, really. It’d been that kind of day.

“It’s been hard. I get to speak to her on the phone and over skype and the like… but it’s not the same, you know. It’s not like… I get to be there to help her like I want to.” Samuel nodded. He was accustomed to being a sympathetic ear, he listened well and his soft expression was enough of a catharsis for Corvo to get on, just for a little bit longer.

“It’s hard to lose a child. Worse when you have to watch them grow up from afar.”

“You’ve got that right.” they were quiet for a while, wallowing in their own sadness. Corvo wanted to ask if Samuel had more experience in this sort of scenario than he let on, the way he advised him so empathetically. He thought better of it, knowing nothing good came from nosing around and opening old wounds. It wasn’t any better for him than it was the poor man across the bar.

“Let me buy you a pint, to wash down your troubles.” Corvo laughed, nodding and pouring another glass before topping off Samuel’s.

“Should we toast?”

“To better days.”

“May they come swiftly and stay with us.”  
They tapped glasses, foam spilling over their fingers before they sipped and guzzled the amber liquid. Thankful to occupy their mouths for a purpose other than sad stories. Corvo continued to drink and chat until he ended up closing the pub and seeing Samuel out. He made his way home in a bit of a tipsy stupor and fell asleep rather quickly.

It wasn’t long, however, before a call from an unknown number roused him into the newest faction of his strange life.

\---

“When was the last time you even stepped on a dance floor?” the banter was highly unnecessary, Corvo was sure that he truly meant to show off- talking to him so casually as he slid across the room. His feet slid so quickly it made his blood boil because he always seemed to have perfect control over his body. He was such a slender thing, nothing but lean muscles and a big fat head. The only reason it didn’t drag the rest of him down must have been the hot air filling it.

“Focus Corvo, if you spent half as much energy glaring at the back of my head as you did dancing, maybe we wouldn’t have to rehearse this choreography forty times over.” 

“I’m trying.” he snarled under his breath, swinging his arm in time to the beat.

“You came to me of your own violation, you can see yourself out as well.” he responded coldly, snapping his hips from side to side, his torso following the flow.  
Corvo blamed the music- he wasn’t accustomed to this, he danced ballet and classical styles- dances that were never so animalistic and aggressive. The dancer continued pouring sweat as he attempted to keep up with the man beside him. The outsider was swinging his arms back, spinning and hopping about like a man possessed. Corvo slowed to a stop, utterly worn just as the beat picked up again but the outsider remained dancing.  
He was kicking his heels, shifting his feet and swinging himself down to a crouch before leaping back up again and spinning on his toes with such ferocity he might as well have been a whirlwind. Corvo stepped away, grabbing a towel and his water bottle as he watched him continue- seemingly unaware of the dancer’s absence.

Or perhaps he was just incredibly spiteful.

He leapt and jumped with his legs apart, panting loudly and sweat hitting the floor as he stood stock still.

“It would also help if you didn’t abandon the… choreography in the middle of a dance, Corvo.”

“I can’t just follow your moves- you need to actually teach me.”

“I don’t need to teach you, you’re not embracing your power.”

“My power?” he scoffed. “I had no idea this was considered… power… to you.” the outsider had an annoyed expression- then again, he might have just been mirroring Corvo’s scowl.

“You have potential but you’re not willing to let go of what’s holding you down- all your past experience and habits are slowing you down because you want to use old and obsolete techniques.”

“I’m not getting it because you just expect me to pull off these moves I’ve never learned.”

“Shall I slow down for you Corvo? all you need to do is ask.”

“Oh, is that _all_?!” he spat, his temper suddenly flaring. The outsider laughed and waved him over. begrudgingly,, Corvo approached and set his water bottle down against the wall.

“Feet apart.” Corvo widened his stance and stared at the outsider in the mirror, who kept his head turned. “now, first part…” he began to slowly sway from the hips, moving his knees to flow the rest of his body. Corvo slowly caught on and soon they were in sync.  
they worked in silence, simply moving different parts until they were working in slow sync and gyrating by one another.

“Good, now, work in the arms- that’s a key element.” he rotated his shoulders, the whole dance was very flowing and without The Outsider’s usual blasting bass music, it was almost serene.

“Were you… ever involved in ballet?”

“What makes you ask?”

“Because these moves are pretty similar” he cleared his throat. “to that, i mean.”

“Dance has its roots- even when it seems worlds apart. it’s not surprising.” he stayed silent for a moment longer. “I did dance those styles once- when i was younger.”

“Is that so?” Corvo wiped the sweat from his brow and continued following the outsider’s lead. He was repeating a move for a while longer than seemed necessary but Corvo tried his best to imitate him until he stopped and pointed. He wondered when the man was ever young. Now that he mentioned it, however- it felt more likely the lithe man was born simply to make a pair of parents very proud of their dancing prodigy and become a household name as he danced and never spoke and simply received praise until he died. Like a string-less marionette- or that story about the girl with the cursed ballet shoes.

But that was just a bitter thought.

“No. pivot.” he snapped his fingers and pointed again at him. Corvo slowly did it and the outsider nodded, and repeated himself before moving on again.  
It was just a bitter thought. Even if it seemed overwhelmingly accurate at the moment.

“I’m trying.”

“You’re _trying_ but you’re not _doing_.”

“What does that even mean?!” the outsider sighed loudly and looked at him like he was an idiot.

“Take a break. Get some water.” he waved, walking off suddenly. Corvo threw up his hands in defeat and moved into his bag, grabbing his water bottle and taking a long drink as the outsider messed with his phone.

“Is that a whale charm?”

“What?” he didn’t look at Corvo, furiously typing away.

“You have a whale phone charm.” he sighed and looked at Corvo, the sound of his message being sent was the only acknowledgment in regards to the phone itself. “And here I thought you were just a dancing hardass-- nice to know you have a soft side.”

“It’s not mine.”

“It’s on _your_ phone.”

“It’s _not_ mine.” he urged, hiding it behind his back.

“Oh, it’s not?” Corvo fished his own phone from out of his backpack, quickly hitting some buttons and looking at the outsider expectantly. His phone buzzed in a heartbeat fashion, and he threw it aside into a duffel without even looking at it. “That’s cute.” Corvo chuckled. Suddenly, it was so much easier to deal with this enormous manchild, knowing he had some weakness, some little kink in his armor plated facade.

“Are you finished?”

“Almost.” Corvo laughed, pressing some more buttons. “There. Look. I put you in my phone with the whale emoticon.” Corvo grinned, pointing at his screen. The biggest smile he’d given since this strange week had begun, if he was honest with himself. The outsider said nothing, just stared at him with contempt and boredom.

“Are you… quite finished.” he asked again, not waiting for an answer this time. “We have a lot to get through.”

“Aye aye, ahab.”

“Enough!” he yelled, moving back onto the floor as Corvo chuckled to himself. “You’ve blown off some steam it seems, maybe you can get these moves right for my sake.” he hissed.

Incredibly, by some odd twist of fate, Corvo was able to focus more on his moves than his grudges. The outsider managed to slow down enough to actually teach him proper moves. It finally felt like they were getting somewhere, for once. Aside from the constant berating and shouted commands, at least Corvo felt as though he had something to show for it.  
Pivot here, twist there-- no, no, move your arms in- elbows stay there… Relax! You’re not- you have to- Limp! Corvo! Limp!”

Eventually, he was able to get through a quarter of the many motions and finally, the outsider was giving him the praise he deserved.

“Yes, Corvo, good-good-good-hit the pivot-good! Good! Keep going! Now! Now! Now!” he clapped the rhythm as Corvo felt the moves flow out from his head to his feet, finally getting into it. He felt as though he was barely scratching the surface of what he wanted, what odd actions he was being guided into.

But He enjoyed it.

He sincerely enjoyed it.

This was what he was missing since he was resigned in disgrace from his rank in the academy-  
The challenge of working on perfection. Someone who was pushing him into something entirely new- not just a new dance, but a new dance, a new style, and entirely new choreography. He felt… alive. Powerful. He was given a second chance and he could… finally come back into his old life- not as a classical dancer but as someone with an edge, an advantage, a renewed vigor.

An entirely new arsenal at his disposal.

“Good, Corvo, good.” the outsider purred, falling in step with the next set of moves. That’s right- he was gaining something from him. It was his power he was borrowing from.

He needed him as much as he needed Corvo. That’s why he was pushing him so hard, he was burning this power into him- giving him exactly what he desired most, if Corvo would accept it:

His reincarnation into the world of dance.

And Corvo was more than ready for it, this time.

It was only a matter of time.


End file.
